“Henry acted like he didn’t see it but boom—here is proof! I knew Queen Molly would come through. I’m changing her name in my phone to that. Queen Molly.” Fitz pumps her fist, validated. “Never underestimate the power of a good suit.”

“It wasn’t like, um…” Why I feel the need to explain myself, I don’t know. Why my best friends and the sisters are betting on me and Reid, I’ll never know. “We just talked about Melted.”

“The why is irrelevant,” Hannah says.

“Right,” Fitz confirms. “It happened.”

It happened. Fitz and Hannah and Delia spew Team Natareid shit at me for way longer than acceptable. Henry rolls his eyes at his phone. I check his screen out in my peripheral vision—he’s texting Danica. To my right, Fitz is… also texting Danica.

Hannah tries to hide her smile. “You know, Reid is downstairs.”

Delia raises her eyebrows. “He said you can come down whenever.”

“We’re specifically supposed to tell you that.” Hannah licks frosting off her fingers. “On our way over, he was like, I’ll be in the studio all day. Tell Natalie she can come down whenever.”

“Whenever,” Fitz emphasizes.

I bite into my cupcake I don’t even want to eat. “I get it. Whenever,” I say.

Hannah and Delia raise their eyebrows in unison and it’s, like, stop it, you are twelve.

Henry looks at me, confused. “Why are you going downstairs, um, whenever?”

“Reid’s Albany submission is due tomorrow,” I say.

“Okay.” Henry’s fingers drum his water glass. “Shouldn’t your dad help with that?”

“Dad is back-to-back booked today with LSB,” Delia says. “The hustle never stops. Besides, Reid asked for Nat. Specifically.”

“He asked if I could listen before he sends it,” I say. “It’s whatever.”

Henry raises his eyebrows. “Okay, Natareid.”

Fitz, Hannah, and Delia laugh as I kick Henry’s foot under the table.

Henry throws his hands up in the air. “Kidding. Kidding. I truly cannot even imagine that.”

I exhale because okay, bless, Henry finds the thought of Natareid as ludicrous as I do.

“So how’re you going to mess with him?” Henry asks.

My eyes flicker to the door that leads down to the basement. “Oh… I’m not.”

Reid has put so much work into Melted. The time he should’ve been spending perfecting his audition pieces, he’s spent writing show tunes and going to musicals and codirecting. The old Reid would’ve had his recording finalized weeks ago, but instead he’s doing it last minute. It doesn’t even occur to me to mess with Reid—and I’m not sure who’s more surprised by my response.

Henry. Or me.

As soon as Henry and Fitz leave, I decide it is officially whenever.